American Dream

I wonder sometimes about the "American Dream". The big house, the white picket fence...is that really what God wants for our hearts to desire? Really? A house that is filled with empty rooms and empty hearts...waiting to be filled with next selfish desire?
In my eyes..I have the big house(& big mortgage) but so often feel it pulling me down. I spend a great deal of my time trying to keep it clean and not perfectly clean..just clean enough to keep away the bugs...perfectly clean would require no sleep at all.
I do feel blessed that I have a home/ a shelter but if we are gonna continue to live here, I dont want this house to be a burden. I want it to be a house of hope. I want the doors to swing wide open for the lost teen, the single mother, and the battered soul.
I pray God will continue to prepare our hearts for opportunities to minister through this acre of space we have because the moment we have it all to ourselves again..I just don't think I want it.

When the Saints

A song Kristi and I loved..may this year open doors for me to
be like this.....


Lord I have a heavy burden of all I've seen and know
It's more than I can handle
But your word is burning like a fire shut up in my bones
and I cannot let it go
And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought
I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
And when the Saints go marching in I want to be one of them Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind
but your word has compelled me
when I think of all who've gone before me
and lived the faithful life
And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought
I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharohs court
I hear his call of freedom for the people of the Lord
And when the Saints go marching in I want to be one of them
And when the Saints go marching in I want to be one of them
I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad
I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul
I see the young missionary and the end of the spear
I see his family returning with no trace of fear
I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights
I see the sisters standing by the lepers side
I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor
I see the man with a passion come and kicking down the door
I see the man of sorrows and his long troubled road
I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load

By Sara Groves